Another Cinder-Herondale Story
by ZaneNassour
Summary: Clary Fray is a 16, almost 17, year old girl who had dreamed her whole life of going to see the royal palace of the Herondale family. When Jace Herondale, Prince of Idris, invites the whole of Alicante, Clary might have the opportunity to live out these dreams. Will she seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, or will she deny it, even though she knows that she should take it!


**First Chapter of new fanfic! Just Another Pretty Boy will be updated as soon as possible! Please follow, favourite, and review to share your thoughts and any corrections or recommendations! Enjoy! :)**

Clary's POV

It all began when I heard the girly screaming from upstairs, and upon entering the living quarters, found my step-mother and step-sisters waving around a letter, crying out in adoration.

When I asked what had happened, they told me that it was none of their business, but that didn't stop my curious self from investigating. It turned out, the prince of Idris, Jace Herondale, the most adored man in the land, referred to as "The Golden Boy", had sent out an invite to all the maidens in the land, requesting them to attend a royal ball at the palace.

This was a _huge_ deal for everyone, even for me. This was a chance for me to actually _see_ the palace, the same one that I had dreamed of seeing my entire life. It was as much my dream as it was my mum's.

She had always wanted to see the royal palace, and even when she was given a chance to go, when I was only little, she didn't, as she wanted to see it with me. We would've gone together, if it hadn't been for the accident.

It was the 4th of November, 2005, and I was 5 years old. I was sitting at the kitchen table at me and mum's house, painting an angel. Dad had left when I was 3. Mum would never tell me the full story, but every time I brought him up, her expression would just turn sad, and she would just tell me that he couldn't stay, that it wouldn't have worked.

Mum had gone out to get me some more paint supplies. I had only murmured a faint goodbye, before she was gone. I didn't, and couldn't know at the time, that this was the last time that I would ever see her, that this was my chance to say a final goodbye.

The letter arrived an hour later, explaining vaguely that there had been an accident, and that mum wouldn't be coming home. No matter how many times I read that letter, which was currently in the box that I kept under the floorboards, I just couldn't decipher what had happened.

They had never said that mum had died, only that she wasn't going to be coming home. They had never told anything about what kind of "Accident" had occurred. Most importantly, I couldn't figure out who _they_ were.

It always occurred to me that maybe _they_ had left these details out for a reason. Had they been responsible for my mothers disappearance? Had it been a murder, or maybe even a kidnapping?

Was my mother still _alive_ , imprisoned where she could speak to no one. All these questions had flooded through my mind for the past 11, nearly 12, years, and yet they remained unanswered.

If my mum couldn't see the palace, then I knew that she would want me to. I knew I had to look nice, or else I wouldn't fit in at the event.

I decided I'd sew my own dress for the ball, and went out to buy some sewing material with the little money I had. Mum hadn't been that wealthy, and we had always been on the verge of struggling, but after she died, and after step-mother Charlotte took me in, I had almost no money, and had to get a job.

When I had first moved in with the Branwell's, I had thought them nice people, until they started demanding payment for their "Hospitality", and had forced me to do their chores, and basically be a servant, except that I didn't get paid, and had to give nearly all my money to the Branwell's.

I learnt not to disobey the family, however, for every time I did, step-mother would take more money out of my dad's college fund for me, which he had apparently gifted to my mother before his leaving.

Every time step-mother took money out of this fund, it was more money that I had to work for later in my life, and so I did as the Branwell's told, and kept my mouth shut in the process. I knew that I wasn't being treated fairly, but going to art school meant everything to me.

I searched through at least 5 different shops in Idris, finally finding what I was looking for in Alicante's "Arts and all things crafty" store across from the main stables, an area that always smelled of zoo animals.

While making my way to the stores exit, a decorative archway with pencils hanging from strings, something caught my attention.

A hooded figure was making its way into the store, flanked by two fully armoured palace guards. When there figure pulled their hood back, I was now staring at Hodge Starkweather, captain of the palace guards, known for his 30 years of service to the Herondale family. Starkweather made his way to the man at the front, and started piling objects on top of the front desk.

I decided I'd eavesdrop on their conversations, pretending to be looking around, then tying up my shoes, then admiring some objects around the place, and so on. Don't think of me as some nosy know-it-all though.

I wouldn't usually do this, but when a famous royal guard walks into the store your in, you do things you otherwise wouldn't, and sometimes end up mortally embarrassing yourself.

Their conversation consisted of: "Good Day", "Good Day to you too", "Just came to collect some equipment for the palace artists, aka, Queen Maryse", "Oh Ok, well have a good day", "You too".

It really was quite a simple conversation, though I learnt that apparently Queen Maryse liked to paint. I was so lost in my thought of what her paintings would look like that I didn't even notice when Starkweather approached me.

"Good Day madam, what brings you here today?", he asked, looking expectantly at me. I choked, nervously stuttering "Came for Painting I like to how today you are?", I spoke stupidly, mentally slamming my face against a brick wall, and picturing myself being crushed by zoo elephants while painting myself being beaten by the palace guards.

What can I say, I have a powerful imagination.

The middle-aged man just chuckled, his grey-brown beard bouncing around wildly.

"I have a proposition for you", he told me, and I'm sure my surprise was visible in my expression. _The captain of the royal guard, making a proposition to me?_

"The Prince's ball will be held next fortnight, and he plans to attend said ball with his excuse of a girlfriend, Aline Penhallow, who is just another gold-digging pretty girl whom Jace does his thing with, and who will be dumped sooner or later. I simply request that you, on my orders, attend this ball with Mr Herondale, a deed that will do him good, as there are currently bets being placed on who his next girlfriend will be".

I just stared, shocked. _There was no way in hell that I could attend that ball with the freaking Prince of Idris himself._ Part of me, however, screamed that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and that I should take it.

After thirty seconds of intense thought, during which Starkweather just stared at me patiently, I had made my decision.

 **I hope that you enjoyed this first chapter of my new fanfic! Also, Just Another Pretty Boy is not over, I will continue it, and I'm so terribly sorry that I haven't been updating as regularly, especially because its the holidays, but I'm currently in a bit of a writers block.**

 **I will try to update all my fanfics as soon as possible! :)**

 **Continue Writing/Reading, ;)**

 **-Zane Nassour**


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